This and That and the Other

"The difference between art and craft could be... art decides on the concept first, while with craft, the technique is predetermined" I thought, mildly pleased I got started on the hearts blankets early this morning.  Then a couple of seconds passed, and I realized this is what art teachers have been telling me ever since I started asking two-plus years ago.

Another few shots of the hearts, and I wondered; did Michelangelo really consider mixed media of cloth and marble first, try it out, and later decided to go with marble only?  Because the concept-driven art education has been in vogue, but it wasn't always thus; traditional art education put a lot more emphasis on the expertise of technique and knowledge of material, from what I've read.  Apprenticeship was an important part, if not the only way.  So how does this knowledge benefit my conundrum/hysteria about the proposed group?  

* * * * *

And then Shaft 2 ceased to lift.  It happened once yesterday, but rebooting the computer solved the problem then.  This morning, several rebooting, defragging, rechecking the hardware/connections didn't solve the problem, so I gave up.  Ben will have to have a look.

I threaded and sleyed the cashmere Log Cabin warp in two teals on the 4-shaft, but I didn't start weaving, because there is enough warp for 10 scarves, and if I had, I'll put the hearts on the back burner.  Again.

* * * * *

For those of you in the Northern Hemisphere, you may be enjoying the arrival of spring and flowers.  I think a lot about bright colors in the autumn as well as in spring, and I put it to the clarity of the air and sharpness of light this time of the year.  Colors really come to life and I've had my 20/2 mercirized cotton cones on the stairway for over a month now, and I keep coming up with saturated color combinations.  The warp I started making yesterday was fat stripes of two purples, two reds and two oranges separated by skinny light yellow-greens, and I'm not counting, so the stripes will come out in different widths.

While playing with that idea, I dared treaded on into the hitherto-forbidden red/pink and orange/pink territory; I used to hate these combinations, especially red/pink, but now I am attracted to the richness, the almost three-dimensional quality of these combinations. Blame it on the autumnal lights.  The days are getting shorter, though, and throughout the day the colors keep changing, making it difficult to learn about each pairing.

* * * * *

I'm still working on that biography of van Gogh, not a big book, but I'm reading slowly.  I'm taking solace and feeling alarmed by his peculiar personality. And I'm still not sure where the group thing is going, or where I'm going with that one.

Deathtrap

This is about the study group.  And before I get stuck in, (or you get stuck in reading,) I have to stress I don't know which way I'm going, because the group has not even met. With that in mind...

Development: Jo, Pat and I invited three others.  We three have ideas/directions we want the group to take, but shall discuss/decide together when the whole group meets; we have yet one other artist we want to invite.

I met one of the three on Friday for the first time, don't know the other two well, though I do know the one remaining. I'm sorry I'm so cryptic, but I'm not sure how much I should disclose at this stage without others' knowledge.  But that's inconsequential to my problem.

Pros: Being in discussion with and working along textile artists of esteem, (some locally but at least one having shown in as far away as Dunedin and Sweden,) is no doubt a great learning opportunity for me. They will, as the saying goes, make me "push the envelope", "stretch the boundaries", "think outside of the box," and all that.

Cons: It goes against my beliefs to belong to a group that is by invitation only, let alone be one of the instigators.  It really pains me, but I agree this is important for the quality of our experience.

This second is the more dire problem.  The original Textile Lunches started right after the first Changing Threads exhibition opened, because they violated their own brief, (partially posted here,) in their selection.  This discrepancy was seen in their second exhibition as well, which I helped install and was privy to the reasons for some of the inclusion.

I wanted to know how woven cloths can be shown in the textile art context; how I can show cloth without prostituting my creativity/principals because adulterating the woven cloth, to me, is pandering to the fashion of the day, fashion that welcomes "textile art" but devalues the art-ness of weaving.  I also wanted to know what selectors honestly looked for, as opposed to where they said they wanted the entrants to aim, as one of the Textile Lunchers were heavily involved in the first year's selection.  I felt I, too, could have just woven something, take fab pics, and entered it. 

It's easy to forgive Changing Threads now; this is what I meant by this third skein/spool/strand/exhibition being so much better, because the selection made clear what the exhibition looked, they selected what they asked for in the brief, and the abundance of worthy entries show textile artists are getting it and responding.  (I need to dig out my notebooks, but the wording in this year's brief may have changed slightly.  No, I didn't study it word for word this year.)

In entering discussions with Pat and Jo, I must have forgotten this was my starting point for a study group.

Pat weaves, though I think her primary artistic expression is through tapestry weaving.  The others are "textile artists", their techniques include sewing, patchwork, quilting, felting, dyeing, embroidery, perhaps knitting, beading, and other embellishments; you could say they make sculptures out of fiber; one says she makes whatever she wants and her current material/techniques happen to be fiber.  Put crudely, their techniques allow picture-making in ways mine doesn't.

Starting to get the picture?  I am loyal to weaving, to making cloth.  Though I may dabble in other techniques, though you may rightly accuse me of disliking without giving it a go, staying within the confines of weaving is a point I am unwilling to compromise.

Being among "textile artists", (and I don't know how many of them now the mechanism of weaving,) I worry I will be told to "push/stretch/think" beyond the confines of the warp/weft structure, because will only resist as I have not found a way to include "concepts" into weaving in ways that appear fashionable today.    

I've been thinking of an appropriate euphemism and the best I came up with is I'm a long-distance runner, and they, dancers; we try to excel in our respective fields, but currently dance is in.  Does this mean I'm asking to run around the stage while they dance?

From my point of view, the group's raisen d'etre has changed.  I don't mind the control of the group going to someone else; in fact it will free me to think more about my "making".  Yet I don't want to be included only because I was one of the instigators; I don't want to be seen to be pulling the leg of the group because the current fashion undervalues weaving,  But if the last two and a half years is anything to go by, I'm not sure if I will find a solution.  And I don't have the stomach to stay if I'm going to feel miserable or weaving belittled.   

As I said at the start, the group has not even met once, and though I'm willing to give it a go, my foreboding is palpable. I foresee great conflict either within me or in the group, and for now it sucks.

Saturday Morning Blather

It's hardly Saturday morning now but I started this post this morning, so I shall keep the title.

I went to the drawing class yesterday morning; it might have been a Big Mistake.  I just couldn't get into drawing, (I must say, a first in a couple of years, I think,) the combination of the model and the assignment was mismatched in my mind, (but others liked it, to be fair,) and of course people asked me about my family and Japan.  Some complained about the New Zealand press coverage of the Japanese Triple-Whammies.  I should just walk away, but I gave some folks chapter and verse and felt exhausted.  I don't mind talking to friends, but I'm so bad at small talk with acquaintances.

More bad choices ensued.  After lunch with Ben and Ronette, I had four hours to kill before the opening of Changing Threads.  Instead of hiding in a cozy corner of a library, I walked around town, did my chores slowly, (I had only two,) and ran into so many people I never ever run into on a normal Friday afternoon, including one out-of-town friend.  Some understood that I didn't want to talk in details about home; some said they understood but couldn't let go of the subject.  By the time I got to the Refinery, at 5PM, half an hour early, I was ready to collapse.  But in the past I've not gone to openings or left early, and apparently Lloyd thanked me in his speeches, so I leaned on Ben and other objects and stayed.  And Jo and I were thanked.  It's very lovely of Lloyd, and he is that kind of a man, but really, I don't need to be thanked for just helping out hanging lovely textile art.  Besides, thanks to Lloyd, I take part in a community event two days a year; without his letting me do this, I'd be even more of a hermit than I am, which many books on art making and psychology tell me is not right.   

This week was tough on the Hermitess head space.  Monday and half of Tuesday were spent hanging Changing Threads; I was exhausted Tuesday afternoon and had a long nap.  Wednesday morning I went to see Andrea at the Suter to discuss prices; in the afternoon I had a long powwow with Jo and Pat about a group, (more about this soon.)

Thursday I was too tired to do much, I read, made a short warp, and had a long nap.  I also had a former friend ring me; I tried to sound engaged, but truth to tell I just wanted to hang up.  We used to work together, and I thought we were good friends, then she was away for a while, and when she returned I tried to give her moral support in her new job because she acted as if she needed it.  But soon, she began evading my every invitation to get together, ("I'll check my diary at work and let you know when we can get together for morning tea/afternoon tea/dinner,") and after four and a half years I gave up.  The last time I saw her in person she told me she wanted friends her own age, (she's about 10 years younger than me,) and though I liked her a lot, I let that part of my life go. About two years later.

After asking about my family, and after my detailed spiel, (oh, God, why do I do that??) once again she said she'll ring me so we can get together and maybe go for a walk.

Chances are, she won't call, and I hope she doesn't call. I regret not having asked her not to bother.  Coward!

* * * * *

I'm taking a break from figure drawing next term.  Initially it was a financial decision, and it still helps to skip one, but I have other reasons.  I expect everybody else to be as serious about drawing as I am that I've become intolerably intolerant of other students' bad behavior.  Yesterday it was only someone humming to the background music, but I thought my body would explode with anger.  Then again, one of my favorite classmate has moved to an evening class, and that's bee disappointing, too.

I need a break, a solitary weave-a-thon in my basement like I used to have, and take the time to get deep inside my head.

I See the Future...

Probably five projects from now.  They are short warps for only two scarves each, because I love making them but my galleries don't like stocking them.  I might fiddle with the sett to make the texture more attractive.

Group, Collective, What's in a Name?

With the demise of my Textile Lunch group, (which couldn't even get together to ceremoniously disband the group,) other friends approached me with starting up something else in mind, and we met for the first time yesterday.  We had a lovely discussion, unrushed, going off on tangents but managing to come back to focus.

What we decided was that a presentation/lecture-based study group is not what we want, a kind of book club without books I had in mind.  Instead, we thought a "place" to discuss processes (and techniques) would benefit us more immediately; techniques in parenthesis because we are only loosely connected by fiber/textiles.  We will meet again at the Changing Threads opening tomorrow and work towards getting "it" started.

During the discussion, and on another occasion while shooting the breeze with Kath Bee last week, I was asked by other makers why I make things, what it is I try to get out of the making experience.  To be honest I don't really think too often about why I do this, I'm worry more about how. .

In the first instance, I weave because I can, in ways I never could with office work, (no mid- or long-term satisfaction,) writing, (never knew when a piece was finished), or Linguistics, (I am not creative, diligent, or dogmatic enough to be an academic, and I'm not a good teacher.)

I like weaving because it's an art form/traditional technique that has technical restrictions and I must work within the parameter, (i.e. not "free-hand") and this suits me.  The process of weaving is linear, and after a certain point it is cumbersome, sometimes impossible, to backtrack; this limits my option to change my mind and start over from the top; this forces me to finish projects.   

I love the finished products, the cloth.  And because I'm a good starter but not a good finisher, I feel satisfaction in reaching the last stages of making a cloth.

And I continue to weave because I want to feel again the immense satisfaction I felt when I took a particular piece off my loom in mid-2007; it was a kind of high I don't remember ever feeling before or after that evening in my life, and it was the one piece  was never in a rush to get rid of.  This is what I wrote to Kath that evening.

* * * * *

"I have one piece I consider to be my best ever.  It's called Tapa, and I wove it in mid-2007.  Put simply, I think the pattern, (which we weavers call weave structure,) colors, material, (possum/merino/silk), and the size/proportion jelled; that the resultant cloth is much better than the sum of all its parts.  It was a hard piece to photograph, but I hope you get some sense of it.


"I wanted to make something with a Pacifika feel, but not associate it one specific island/nation. I Googled Tapa cloth images, stared at them for a long time, but didn't read any texts nor make sketches.  And I just started mapping things out in a weaving software.  I made half a dozen weaving plans called "drafts" and wove, from memory, three of them, but by far this was the best.

"A woven cloth is not finished until it is fulled or wet-finished; this is a washing process, but with some fibers we do what we're not normally supposed to do.  In case of wool, I often dunk it in the hottest water that comes out of the tap, and I agitate it until it felts a little bit. In doing so, the "net" that is the warp and the weft yarns that came off the loom becomes "cloth" for the first time.  So I never know exactly how a piece of weaving is going to turn out until the piece is fulled, pressed and dried.    

"With this one, even before fulling, I knew I was on to a winner.  I still remember I couldn't put into words why I thought so, but I felt an overwhelming satisfaction that I made it.    

"Since then, I often think of what I began to call 'inevitable cloth'; some colors, patterns and material cannot help but look and feel beautiful when put together, like it was fate, as if it was inevitable they'd come together.  I try to make every piece an inevitable cloth, but so far I've not managed to recreate the satisfaction I felt that day.  But it's addictive, and I haven't given up."

* * * * *

The piece itself had an interesting journey.  It was part of the submission for Re:Fine in Wellington, but the curators could not find a good place for the piece and it was not shown.  Anna held on to it because she still wanted to show it at Re:Fine in Nelson, but something about the dull surface of Tapa, bright lights and low ceiling didn't work at the Suter, so it wasn't shown there either.   Meanwhile, knowing I was searching for outlets in Wellington, Anna wrote an email to galleries introducing me and the kind of work I do.  I had never had anything written about me nor read anything like that and was flabbergasted by what she wrote, but I felt vindicated because she described how I worked on the Tapa series and this piece in particular.  Meanwhile, this is the only piece I withheld from the galleries; it sat on my stash room floor, though I never took it out to study it or appreciate it.  I just didn't mind, unlike everything else I made, it being home.

Fast forward a few years and my parents' friends who have known me since I was three came to visit Nelson, and Ron wanted something special for Puffs' significant birthday.  I wasn't sure what she'd like so I brought the whole lot to their accommodation and left it there overnight.  It was serendipitous that she chose Tapa.  And I'd like to think it had a fate of its own, outside of my control.  I'm pretty sure I talked about this piece several times before.  Apologies.

* * * * *

Today is the first and only quiet day this week. I'm going to work on the Red Hearts blanket.

Changing Threads Vol 3 is Going to be AWESOME!!

I went to the Refinery today to help hang the Changing Threads exhibition.  In addition to Lloyd Hardwood and Ronnie Martin, I worked alongside Jo Kinross, one of my favorite Nelson textile artist.  It's a privilege to be allowed to get close and even handle the pieces, study not only how they are made but how the artists want them installed, how these instructions are written, and how the pieces are packed.  As well, I enjoy hearing everybody involved discuss individual work or the overall exhibition.  And this year, this third Changing Threads exhibition is going to be AWESOME!

I can't tell you the specifics, and I can't show you any photos, (the latter, because I forgot to turn off my camera previously and I had no juice left in the battery,) but many New Zealand fiber artists must have incorporated this annual show in their creative calendar. Textile art in general and submitted pieces in particular seemed to have grown in sophistication; concepts/ideas appear to have gone through more rigorous examinations/transformation, and are executed with more technical competance, producing pieces that appear effortless, but we know it ain't necessarily so.  Chanting Threads is definitely changing the New Zealand textile art scene; this year's exhibition will have a different feel to the previous two. 

Meanwhile, Lloyd, Ronnie, Jo and I, along with Refinery's Roger, Duncan and Vicky, have a bit more work to do tomorrow.     

* * * * *

I don't know about where you live, but in New Zealand, a lot of plant and animal matters, (feathers, shells) and stones are sometimes included in textile art.  I've learned from my participation in Handmade for Christchurch that even between New Zealand and Australia, there are so many rules and regulations prohibiting importation of plant and animal matters.  One day, if I become ambitious enough to want to send a piece of work to Australia, I will have to look up what material I can and/or cannot send to Australia.  Note to self.       

Vol 3? Third skein/spool/strand?  

* * * * *

Christchurch's second big quake, the one you've seen many dramatic pictures of, took place on February 22.  It's been a month, and recovery/rebuilding of that city is slowly but surely taking place. I was really hoping to win a bid on this doll, but a bidder from Dunedin beat me.

Japan.  Well, that's probably more complex, because not a lot is straight-forward in that country.  I don't know what to believe any more, except it is going to be a long, long time rebuilding can start in earnest. But all is not lost; on Day 9, a grannie of 80 and her 16-year-old grandson were rescued from the kitchen of their former home.  Grannie was unharmed, just a tad weak, and thanked the rescuers loudly and clearly. The grandson suffered from hypothermia, after climbing onto the roof of the rubble and getting the attention of the rescuers.   

So, here's to human resilience.

This Can't be Right

We haven't told my family yet, but we've asked our travel agent to cancel our trip.  It's just not the right time to go home, this coming Easter.  An option was to postpone our trip to, say, October, but we opted to cancel, in part, for financial reasons.  It means we don't have to find the money to pay for the trip. 

But isn't it funny how the mind works? We're momentarily feeling a little rich, as if we found some cash in a unused purse, (which happened before my last trip to Japan.) Anyway, Marlborough Weavers is hosting a workshop on blocks and designs by one Maryann Stamford a week before we were due to leave.  I had given up hopes for attending this, but now I'm in, and I'm paying with the phantom money. 

Red Hearts / Japan

My late-night revelation in the previous post was spot on; I changed the draft so I weave the draft on the left for the top layer, and the draft on the left for the bottom layer.  The revised double-width draft looks like this:

Thursday's sampling shows the weft  I had in mind (A) is the best for the commission piece; this doesn't happen much as I often find something else more attractive after sampling.  Since I have enough warp for two, I'd like to weave one of the grays (B); this yarn looks sad, old and dirty on the cone and even feels scratchy, but fulled, it turns into a sophisticated, lustrous, supple yarn; perhaps it can be dubbed a date/picnic blanket.    

I found a few threading mistakes so I must fix those before I can get started.  This is the only time I dread having 16 shafts, because it's nigh on impossible to see where the mistake is, to devise a temporary heddle and thread through the eye, particularly in the neighborhood of Shafts 9, 10 and 11.

This afternoon I felt restless and didn't want to tackle the threading mistakes. So instead I wound a cashmere warp on the four-shaft, another potential Log Cabin; this one has two medium navy blues, (I often hear "French" associated with navy blues of this type but I've not looked into the origin/validity of this association,) in two slightly different width. Still avoiding fixing the mistake, I tied on another Log Cabin warp, this one a mid and dark teal, the dark being a silk/cashmere mix.  I've now enough warp to weave between eight and ten small Log Cabin scarves once the blanket is finished.  I haven't threaded yet, but the first one, I might just go for big bold squares of 30 or 40 ends each for a change.      


* * * * *

It's been a strange week. I didn't go to my drawing class yesterday because I didn't want to be asked how my family is doing.  My understanding of safety has changed.  And then the family seems to have turned into an average stoic Japanese family and they aren't saying much. at least not to me.  Luckily my brother had a bright idea to evacuate south for a long weekend and catch up on sleep, so all nine are in one of my favorite cities in Japan, Okayama, having an unplanned wee holiday.

Ben and I, on the other hand, spent the week keeping an eye on two live stream television stations, and on tweets to locate articles. Quite a difference from the 1995 Kobe quake that took place two months after we came to New Zealand; we were determined to live without a television in our new life, but that afternoon we rushed to the store and bought the first one we saw.

Panic and chaos after a disaster of this magnitude can be forgiven, but a week on, the government has turned this into Japan's Katrina, dithering and politicking.  I'm also dismayed at the continuing level of support for nuclear power generation, (no numbers, just far more than I had ever imagined,) and flabbergasted at the adoration (??) for the imperial family; we had our own King's Speech video broadcast, which I found, well, astonishing.   

As I type, I'm watching tonight's news, and things look a just a bit brighter, helped by the slightly warmer temperatures, good weather, and in some places, a sea of volunteers. I feel less desperate.  But it's going to be rainy and cold again tomorrow, and even during the news, there have been aftershocks of Magnitude 6 with more tsunami warming.

I've also been wondering how I can contribute.  I don't have many more woven items to donate, and for the moment I want to concentrate on seeing Handmade for Christchurch through, because Christchurch still does need help. Understandably, there hasn't been an overwhelming effort in New Zealand, online, for Japan, that I've come across. No "Handmade for Japan" yet.  

In what feels like the first time in four decades, (with the possible exception of Kobe), organizations in Japan are calling for goods as well as money.  My first instinct was to buy a bunch of small hygiene products and baby things and post them directly to evacuation centers, hoping the parcel will get through once the postal system is back in service. I may still do this, but it appears people and municipalities in safer areas have started taking action, so I may look to contribute in a different way. 

Meanwhile, Sampling has offered two cones of  "yarns with memory" which contain stainless steel, towards Japan Quake Appeal here.  She's spoken about the yarn here, and Shipbuidling wove with it here. Even though the yarn came from Japan, I've never seen nor heard of it until Sampling brought it home from Japan recently.  Anyway, this is a good place for me to start.

* * * * *

I am blessed, that the "normal" life I'm returning to is a weaving- and textile-obsessed, carefree one.  I must make the most of it.

In the Hours between Insomnia and Insanity / Japan

Well, it wasn't that bad last night, but then it is sometimes when bright ideas come to me.  Sometimes.  Last night's light bulb came in the form of problem prevention.  But let me back track a little. 

I've finally finished threading the Baby Girl Blanket yesterday and started sampling.  First I concentrated on floating selvedge on a double-width weave; both selvedges are on the right side.  Theoretically it was easy, and after a centimeter or two, after the two layers could be separated easily, I stuck a few window blind blades so I can move them around to easily see which ends belong to which selvedge. The practical difficulty was, this is a wide-ish warp and I haven't woven anything wider than 30cm since her brother's blanket; to weave properly, I have to sit in the middle of the warp, but if I do, I can't see the right selvedge well.  So with every other shot, every time the shuttled came in and out of the right selvedge, I had to move my Unsmall to the right.  Yes, slow.

While sampling, I realized some of the sheds for the bottom layer was so "thin", i.e. too many shafts were lifted so the shuttle doesn't glide over the remaining warps.  In fact, I'm using the heavy boat shuttle and sometimes it escaped right though the warp and landed on my foot.  I counted the number of warps lifted to see if I should change face so fewer shafts are lifted, but it didn't seem to make much difference on paper.

Above drafts show single layers.  Black squares show shafts lifted, so I want a draft that has more white squares than black.  Yesterday I tried the version on the left.  When I weave the bottom layer, of course all eight shafts for the top layer are lifted, so sometimes a little over 3/4 of the warps are lifted, and at 36EPI and with the heavy shuttle, it's a bit of an ask.

What I did realize in the middle of the night is this: one side of the finished blanket should be all the red hearts on white background, the other, white hearts on red background. While folded, when I weave the top layer, one set of shafts should be lifted, (let's say to weave red hearts), but when weaving the bottom layer, the other set, which create white hearts, should be lifted, yes?

I think I need a combined draft to weave the two widths.  That's next.

EDIT: In the top, flat cloth, the second line should read: "white hearts on red".

* * * * *

In light of what's been happening in Japan, Ben and I have been discussing whether to postpone or cancel the upcoming trip home.  I haven't had the heart to discuss it with my parents, but have sought Brother's and Sister's views.  Yokohama is included in the electricity ration, which is officially expected to go on to the end of April, but since we lost the power generating facilities, (this morning, a thermal power plant was damaged,) I can't see how it can end in a month.  Most supermarket stock disappeared a couple of days ago, though this may or may not be temporary.

Late Tuesday, the "traditional" epicenter near Mt Fuji started rumbling at around Mag 6.4.  This is the one that shakes the Kanto region, including Tokyo and Yokohama, and continues rocking at Japanese Scale 3-5.  There is apparently yet another epicenter further west, in addition to the one in the Japan Alps which has been shaking since the original big one.  And then there is the small matter of the nuclear disaster.

We are weighing how much of a burden we will be if two extra people stay in my family's homes for three weeks, (we've given up the idea of traveling around,) both to our immediate family and to the region, verses how much we may be able to help, which will mostly be in the form of distracting/entertaining them. If Dad could travel, I'd at least get my parents out via Osaka, but I don't think he'd even want to travel to Osaka, so that is not an option.

Oh, the smoke ghost.  S/he finally went away last Thursday.  Then this thing since Friday.  Occasionally s/he's been back, but this time in an extremely strong cigarette smell.  Yuuuuuuck!!!

We're Getting There

Learning from Andrea at The Suter the Kayan Weavers are demonstrating weaving at Race Unity Day celebration, four weavers, (Ronette, Pat Spitz, Nola Fournier and moi,) met at Victory Square this afternoon.  It took us a while to find the ladies, they had finished weaving one scarf in the morning and were going to weave no more.

They did allow us to photograph the piece on the loom, (already sold), but they had taken out the crucial two pieces of wood that would have explained how the two sets of warps were lifted. 

What we do know are:

• They use back-strap looms; 
• The yarns used are 2/20 mercerized cotton, same as mine, woven at 40 or closer EPI.
• The pieces are in fancy, warp-faced, plain weave.  
• They use thin bamboo sticks as spacers. 
• Wefts are two 2/20 cotton, not plied.  
• When the warp is in two colors, those two colors are used in the weft; in multi-colored warps, it appears the two weft colors could be anything.  
• There is no treatment at the start or the finish.
• Pieces today were not wet-finished nor washed; I can't remember how they were finished for the gallery shops, however.  

Enough words; now for the pictures.  The dark, lovely piece was sold while being woven, but Mama had asked me to buy a piece that would look love on her wall, and Nola and I chose a cheerful-colored one.

The top part shows the start of the scarf, and the bottom (with the "beater" still in place) is the end of the scarf.

The weaver showed us the two sticks under the yellow arrow, but neither had any strings on them; they looked like smooth, round cross sticks.  The stick at the end of the green arrow seems to me like the bamboo stick inserted at the start of the scarf, but I can't be sure.

Two sides of one piece.

It's easier to tell what two colors are used in the weft in this piece.

A little harder here; one is white, and the other is a very pale peach color not used in the weft.

No hemming, no fringing.  I can live with that!

Because I was shameless in asking question after question about the structure of the loom, the daughter of one of the weavers who speaks English invited us to their home to have a private demonstration, so four of us are going.  I shall definitely keep you posted.

The weavers were dressed in their traditional Kayan costume,  but since they spent a decade in Thai refugee camps as "tourist attractions", I hesitated to ask if I can take pictures of them, so if interested, please click here.

EDIT: I never imagined I can pick out a face from Google image search, but Zembar is the daughter I met.